Gunned Down
by julesmonster
Summary: One night outside of Babylon changes Brian's world forever. One-Shot


**Gunned Down**

**By Julesmonster**

**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

**A/N:** I'm not sure there's much I can say about this one. It came to me and ripped my heart open as I wrote it. Jules

**BJBJBJBJBJ**

It had begun just like any other day. Brian had woken up with Justin in his arms, had a quick fuck followed by a quick shower. He had then dropped Justin off at St. James Academy and had gone to work himself. A day of selling the un-sellable and then he was back at the loft, changing for his other occupation: being the Stud of Liberty Avenue. He knew that Justin wouldn't be over that night, the twink had a big test on Friday, so Brian was free to fuck who he pleased. Babylon was throbbing with baseline and sweaty bodies, just like every other night. And Brian took advantage of his freedom away from the twink who would not go away and hooked up with three separate tricks. There was nothing special there.

What was unusual was the fact that Michael showed up after Brian was both drunk and stoned. Michael rarely went out on a school night anymore. At least not this late. And so Brian had enjoyed having his friend around with no Justin and no Dr. David. They danced late into the night. Emmett and Ted joined them just before it was time to leave. Brian wasn't sure when they had arrived, but he was glad they were there. They were all together, laughing, teasing, telling lame stories… It was nice and Brian was content with his life. He had Justin when he wanted him. He had his friends. He had tricks. He was at the top of his game at work. Hell, he was on top of the fucking world!

However, when they stepped out into the chilly April night, everything changed in an instant. They hadn't gotten far from the doorway and into the alley when the shots began to ring out. At first, Brian's mind couldn't process what he was seeing, but realized quickly the nightmare into which they had unknowingly walked. He watched in horror as Ted and then Michael were struck down, blood welling from matching wounds to the chest, shot at close range by some kid in the mouth of the alley. Emmett was next, winged in the arm as he dove for cover behind a car. Brian stood there watching in abject horror as the gunman was startled and turned to shoot at three people who had just exited the club—probably to see what was going on.

As if he was moving in slow motion, Brian tackled the gunman while his focus was on the door to Babylon. They wrestled for the gun, and Brian heard another shot ring out as pain exploded through his gut. He lay on the ground, sure that he was going to die and not sure why it had happened. The gunman stood up and looked down on Brian. He knew this kid. This was the kid who had tried to bully Justin on the street not long ago. Chris… something.

"Fucking queers! You all deserve to die!" Chris slurred out and Brian realized that he was either drunk or high. "I'm NOT going to be one of you! You can't make me! I'd rather die!"

And Brian watched with numbness as the kid turned the gun on himself and pulled the trigger.

There were sirens in the distance but the alley itself seemed eerily quiet as Brian felt his hold on consciousness slip away.

**BJBJBJBJBJ**

When Brian woke, it was to the same pain he had felt before passing out, though it was somewhat dulled now. He was slightly surprised that he was alive at all. Slowly blinking his eyes open, he saw that he was in a hospital room. The lights were dimmed and he was sure that it must be very late. Was it still the same night? Beside him, a familiar head of blond hair was resting on the bed beside his hip. Brian reached out and ran his fingers through that hair and smiled when Justin shot straight up, instantly awake.

"Brian?" Justin asked. Well, maybe he wasn't completely awake yet. "Oh, thank god."

"What's going on?" Brian asked, his voice rougher than he would have expected it to be.

"You were shot," Justin said. "The doctors had to do surgery and removed part of your liver and repaired a nick to your lungs. The bullet hit your rib and sent little shards of bone into your organs, on top of the damage that the bullet did. But they say you're going to be okay. Do you remember what happened?"

Brian nodded slowly. "That kid… Chris… something…"

"Hobbes," Justin supplied.

"Yeah, from your school," Brian said tiredly. "He was in the alley outside Babylon and started shooting. Fuck!" Brian tried to sit up, but the pain in his side from his fast movement was overwhelming.

Justin pushed Brian back and said, "You're going to pull out your stitches. You need to lay back."

Brian closed his eyes as the waves of pain began to settle back to a bearable level. "Mikey, Ted and Emmet were shot." Brian opened his eyes in time to see Justin almost fall into his chair and a tear slide down his cheek. "Tell me."

Justin swallowed hard and nodded. "Emmett is fine. He was grazed in the shoulder, but wasn't even kept overnight. Ted is in ICU. They aren't sure if he's going to make it. The bullet damaged his lung and his heart. They have had to resuscitate him several times. If he lives, he'll be severely incapacitated."

Brian nodded slowly. "And Mikey?" He was pretty sure he already knew the answer, but he needed to hear Justin say it. He needed to know for sure.

"I'm sorry," Justin cried. "He… the bullet went straight through his heart. The doctors said his death was almost instantaneous. Oh god, Brian. I'm so sorry."

Brian nodded, but didn't cry. He was too numb emotionally and in too much pain physically to really comprehend the truth. Instead, he closed his eyes and allowed the drugs to pull him back to unconsciousness.

**BJBJBJBJBJ**

When Brian woke the next time, the room was brighter. There were people bustling outside in the corridor and Justin was leaning against the windowsill and staring out at the street below. The morning light bathed him like a halo and Brian was again reminded why Justin was still around and hadn't been relegated to the "had him" list of no repeats. He was beautiful, inside and out—so beautiful that he made Brian's heart ache just seeing him smile or hearing him laugh—and sometimes Brian wondered if being around him would spoil Justin's beautiful soul.

"Hey," Brian said softly.

Justin turned with a sad smile on his face. "Hey."

"You okay?" Brian asked. He could see the dark circles under Justin's eyes and knew the teen probably hadn't slept much since… "How long have you been here? You need to sleep."

"I'm fine," Justin said stubbornly as he retook his seat beside Brian. "Emmett called me as soon as he could. I think he was still being treated by the EMTs. I came to the hospital right away."

"How long ago was that?" Brian asked. He really had no idea what day it was.

"That was around two o'clock on Friday morning," Justin said. "It's now about nine on Saturday."

"So you've missed two nights of sleep?" Brian frowned. "You should go home."

Justin shook his head. "I'm not going anywhere. And you're in no condition to make me."

"Stubborn twat," Brian grumbled.

"Do you remember what I told you last night?" Justin asked tentatively.

Brian's face closed down, but he nodded. "I remember."

"Ted didn't make it through the night," Justin said.

Brian nodded again, and Justin held his hand. They sat in silence for the longest time; Justin unsure what he could do to take away Brian's emotional pain and Brian trying very hard not to admit that he was feeling any pain at all. Because if he admitted it, then it would be real.

"Debbie's been in to see you a couple times," Justin finally said.

Brian sighed, "I suppose I'll have to face her wrath sooner or later."

"She doesn't blame you," Justin said. "No one does. This wasn't your fault."

"I should have…" Brian's voice cracked as his delicate façade of indifference crumbled all too easily under the weight of his guilt. "I should have stopped him! I should have… If we hadn't been there… If I didn't…"

Justin cupped Brian's cheek and made the older man look him in the eyes. "It wasn't your fault. Hobbes was a sick kid. He's the one to blame. Him and a society that told him he couldn't be homosexual and be normal. If you want to blame somebody, blame them. Blame his parents. Blame that fucking school. But do not blame yourself. You risked your life to try and stop him. It wasn't your fault!"

By the end of his speech, Justin was crying, but through his tears he saw and felt the silent sobs that were wracking Brian's body as the truth of what had happened sank in. Justin held Brian, careful of his injury, through the worst of the storm, knowing that this would not be the last of Brian's grief he would have to deal with. Eventually, the storm passed and Brian turned his head away from Justin to stare out the window. Justin knew that Brian hated feeling so vulnerable.

"I'm going to go get some coffee, maybe something to eat," Justin said. "Why don't you rest a bit? I'm sure Debbie will be around soon and you'll need your strength to deal with her."

Brian didn't look at him, but he did nod so Justin left the room.

He gave Brian some time to deal with his emotions while he went to the cafeteria. He actually really should eat something. He couldn't remember the last time he ate. He thought he remembered Daphne bringing him a sandwich sometime during the day while Brian was still in surgery. He grabbed some soup, a burger and some French fries. Now that he knew Brian was going to be okay, his appetite had returned.

Justin scarfed down the food. He didn't want to be gone for long. Brian may be recovering physically, but he'd had quite the emotional blow and Justin wanted to be there for him. He stopped at the gift shop and picked up a few things to keep both him and Brian occupied over the next few days. He didn't bother with flowers or balloons; Brian would just mock them.

When Justin got back to the room, he saw that Debbie had already made it. Justin stopped outside the door to give them some privacy. He didn't hear what they were saying, but he could see that Debbie was trying to keep a brave face, but was failing miserably. And then Brian took her into his arms and the dam broke. Now Brian was the one comforting and Justin knew he was no more comfortable with this role than he was in the other, but at least this one wouldn't leave him feeling vulnerable. Maybe it would help him feel like he was doing something useful.

"Hey," Justin said quietly as he entered the room. He had waited for a sign that things were getting back to normal. When he heard Debbie call Brian an asshole, he knew that it was okay. "I brought puzzle books and mad-libs. I thought you could come up with ways to turn a perfectly innocent children's pastime into a perverse game."

"You know me so well, Sunshine," Brian said with a smirk. It wasn't as potent as his usual smirk but it was a sign that Brian was coping.

"Hey Sunshine," Debbie said with a watery smile. "How are you holding up? This little shit giving you trouble yet? If he does, just tell me and I'll kick his ass for you."

"He's been fine so far," Justin said with a smile. "I'm not so sure about when the drugs start to wear off."

"Hey!" Brian pouted. "I am right here, you know."

"Yes, your majesty," Justin said. "How could we forget?"

A while later, Justin walked Debbie out and asked her how she was doing. "I'm holding up," she sighed. "Vic and Emmett have been doing most of the planning for the memorial service. I told them they had to wait until Brian was well enough to come."

"The doctor said he should be well enough to leave on Tuesday, but he'll be pretty weak and sore getting around for a few weeks," Justin said. "Not that that will keep him from going whenever the memorial is. If it was today, he'd be checking himself out of here to get to it, I bet."

"Well, I'll tell Vic to go ahead and schedule the service for Wednesday," Debbie said. "It shouldn't wait much longer than that."

"What about Ted?" Justin asked.

Debbie shook her head. "His mother came. His family doesn't want to have a service here. They've taken his body back home and don't want to even acknowledge that Ted had friends or a life here. She was devastated. After almost losing him a few months ago… and then for this to happen… I suppose I can understand why she wouldn't want to stick around."

"We'll have something," Justin said. "Next week. We'll have a small memorial. We don't need a casket to remember our friend and say goodbye."

Debbie nodded and brushed at the tears that seemed to always be present these days. "You're right, Sunshine. Now I better get back and you should go keep Brian out of trouble. And you need to get some sleep."

"I slept a little last night," Justin said weakly. "I'll sleep better once Brian's home."

Debbie shook her head. "You're about as stubborn as he is. Take care Sunshine. I'll bring some more clothes from the house for you tomorrow, and some real food."

"Thanks Deb," Justin said. "You shouldn't have to take care of me with everything else going on."

"I'd be here to see Brian anyway," Debbie said. "Besides, it helps if I have something to do besides sit and cry."

Justin nodded. "Okay. In that case, I'll see you tomorrow." He gave her a hug and wasn't surprised when she clung to him for just a moment longer than usual. When she let go, she touched his cheek and smiled through watery eyes and then walked down the hall to the elevator.

Justin watched until she was gone and then went back to see Brian.

**BJBJBJBJBJ**

By Monday, Brian was getting irritable and restless. He wanted to go home. No matter what Justin said or did, it wasn't enough to bring him out of his moodiness. Brian knew the twink was trying to help, but right then, he just wanted to be left alone for a while. After Justin plumped his pillows one too many times, Brian completely lost his grip on his temper.

"Justin!" Brian shouted. "Leave the fucking pillows alone! They are fine. Will you quit fucking hovering over me and go do something? Just leave me in peace!"

"Brian?"

"Can I say it any clearer?" Brian growled. "Get the fuck out!"

Justin's eyes filled up with tears, but he held them in and Brian was grateful for that. He didn't feel guilty for yelling at the twink. He _**didn't**_. But as Justin grabbed his coat and headed for the door, Brian knew he could have handled that better. He sighed and lay back in the bed, relishing the quiet solitude.

Two hours later, Brian was regretting kicking Justin out. He hadn't realized how much Justin's presence had done to keep the overwhelming grief and remorse at bay. There were so many things he should have done different. He shouldn't have been such a prick to Ted. Okay, maybe he didn't feel too bad about that one. Ted was a pretty pathetic guy. But all the same, Brian didn't like the idea that he was dead.

There were so many things he should have told Mikey. There were so many times he had pushed his friend away or hurt him deliberately. He had always claimed it was for Mikey's own good, but it hadn't really been about Mikey at all. It was more to do with his own fears and insecurities. He had used Mikey and never given back to him the love and loyalty that Mikey had offered to him. If he had known how much losing Mikey would feel like he was losing a limb, a part of his very soul, he might have done things differently.

These useless thoughts—what if's and should haves—kept circling through his mind like a never ending cycle leading to a self-loathing so deep, so crushing that Brian didn't know how to breathe under it's weight. Brian swiped at eyes that wouldn't stop watering and tried to catch his breath.

After everything he had done to Mikey, Brian didn't know why the universe or fate or whatever force made things happen had brought Justin into his life. Here was another boy willing to put his faith and his heart in Brian's hands. Brian thought it would be better for Justin if the kid had never met him. He thought about pushing the twink away, but Justin was far more stubborn and persistent than Mikey had ever been. He would fight for what he wanted in a way that Mikey never had. Brian could be just as stubborn when he wanted to be, but he didn't think he could win against Justin. And the reason he would inevitably give in to Justin was that he wanted to give in. He wanted Justin in his life as much as Justin wanted to be in it.

So where did that leave him? He couldn't hurt Justin the way he had hurt Mikey, giving him some of himself but never enough. That wasn't fair and it wasn't something Brian was willing to do again. If something—Brian hated to even think of the possibility but—if something happened to Justin, he did not want to go through this self-doubt and regret shit again.

Brian Kinney doesn't do regret, he reminded himself. Brian snorted. That was such a lie. Almost as big a lie as Brian Kinney doesn't do love, or relationships. He loved. He loved his son. He loved Debbie and Vic as the family he wished had been his own. He loved Lindsay. He had loved Mikey like a brother and a best friend and kindred spirit. And he loved Justin with his whole heart. Just because he never said it to any of them, didn't make it any less true.

There was a noise at the door and Brian looked up to see Debbie staring at him. "Do you think he knew I loved him?"

With tears in her eyes and a shaky voice, Debbie said, "He knew. He always knew. You think we can't see it because you can't say it, but we can. We can see it and we can feel it."

Brian nodded and clutched at the sheet. "Justin left. More accurately, I chased him out."

"He'll be back," Debbie said confidently as she took the seat beside Brian's bed.

"I know," Brian huffed. "I'm not so sure that's a good thing. I'll hurt him. Just like I hurt Mikey."

Debbie snorted. "Undoubtedly. But that's not going to change the fact that the kid is head over heels in love with you. Nor will it change the way you feel about him."

"I don't want to hurt him," Brian said and looked to Debbie with pleading eyes, like she should have all the answers.

"Everyone hurts the people they love," Debbie said softly. "Not intentionally, like your folks liked to do, but it happens no matter how hard we try to prevent it. Love makes us vulnerable to pain. If we didn't love, we wouldn't hurt. But if we didn't love, we wouldn't feel that joy that comes as part and parcel. You are not some rare mistake of nature—no matter how special you think you are—and you do not hurt anyone any more than the rest of us. We all fuck up. The trick is to try and keep the fuck ups to a minimum and enjoy the good times when they come along. That's the most any of us can hope for."

"Mikey never hurt me," Brian said.

This time Debbie laughed outright. "Sure. My boy was a fucking saint. I seem to recall a few incidents that say otherwise. The time he ditched you to go to that kid's birthday party that you weren't invited to, knowing how you felt being excluded like that. Then there was the time he tore your coat on purpose, knowing how your folks would react, just because he was mad at you for kissing that kid on the soccer team. Then there was the way he treated Justin. I know that hurt. And the way he shut us all out after starting to date David, like we weren't good enough anymore. He hurt you Brian. You hurt him. But you also gave each other joy and comfort and companionship and love over a lot of years."

"I miss him," Brian said.

"Me too," Debbie said softly as she pulled out another tissue from her purse and dabbed at her eyes again. When she felt more together, she said, "Now, about Justin. You know he isn't going to just go away because you tell him to."

"Tried it," Brian sighed and rested his head against the pillows. He stared at the ceiling and remembered how Justin had drawn him in time after time until Brian knew he was lost. "Didn't work then. Won't work now."

"So it's time to try something different," Debbie said. "If you don't like how things ended with Mikey, do your best not to repeat your mistakes. Do this different. I know it already is different, 'cause you never fucked Michael. But make it different in the ways that really count."

"What ways would those be?" Brian asked.

"Well, first off, telling him to fuck off should probably be a no-no," Debbie said facetiously. Then she got serious. "Just talk to him. You don't have to tell him everything you think or feel, but let him in a little bit. Let him help you right now, like you helped him after his folks tossed him out. Give and take a little. If you can't tell him you love him, show him more often so he doesn't forget. Let him know you need him as much as he needs you."

Brian nodded. "What if I can't… I'm not good at monogamy."

"You never tried it," Debbie said wryly. "But maybe he isn't looking for a wedding and a white picket fence. Have you asked him? Talked to him about what you think you can and can't live with?"

"I don't talk," Brian muttered. "Not about feelings and shit."

"You talk about sex," Debbie countered. "This is about sex, isn't it? Ask him what he expects from you and tell him what you expect from him. If you can talk about sucking and fucking with complete strangers, I'm sure you can talk about this with Justin."

Brian thought about what Debbie had said to him even as they continued to talk about other things. Debbie told him about the plans they had for Michael's funeral and Brian asked if there was anything he could do. Debbie had brushed aside the question, but Brian vowed he was going to see to the funeral bills once he was out of this fucking hospital. In fact, he'd have Justin get the information and he could make the calls from there. When Justin got back.

If Justin came back.

Suddenly Brian was certain that Justin was never going to come back. The thought seemed so monumental and so frightening that his breathing began to speed up and a sweat broke out on his forehead. Before he knew what was happening, the panic Brian felt was like waves crashing over his head threatening to drown him.

"Brian? You okay?"

Debbie's voice was distant and distorted. Brian wanted to answer, but he couldn't breathe.

"Justin!" Brian gasped out. "Need…Justin!"

Debbie looked scared but not as scared as Brian felt. He didn't know why he was panicking but he didn't know how to stop either. All he really knew was a need to see Justin, to know that he was okay and that Brian hadn't fucked things up for good.

And then he was there. "Brian! I'm here. It's okay. Come on, breathe. Take deep slow breaths; you're okay. Come on, breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out."

It took a few minutes, but eventually Brian began to calm down and catch his breath. Justin stayed right there with him, holding him and stroking his back as he sat on the edge of the bed. Brian was too exhausted to fight the sleep that wanted to pull him under. So with Justin's arms around him, Brian lay back, closed his eyes and let sleep win this round.

When Justin was sure that Brian was asleep, he looked at Debbie who was still a bit shaken up by the incident. "He's okay, Deb. It was just a panic attack. His doctor told me that it's pretty common after a traumatic event. They should get better as he deals with everything."

"Has this happened before?" Debbie asked, more reassured now that she had a name and explanation for what had happened.

"First time," Justin said and stroked Brian's hair in his sleep. "The doctor told me what to look for and walked me through what I needed to do. If we hadn't been able to calm him, the worst thing that would have happened would that he passed out from hyperventilating. That would have given his body time to calm down without his brain interfering, so the attack would end anyway. They are scary for him and for anyone with him, but they aren't particularly dangerous."

Debbie chuffed. "That was more than scary. I thought he was dying."

"He wasn't," Justin said with a sad smile. "Though I'm sure it felt that way to him, too. What were you talking about that got him so upset?"

Debbie flushed. "I think you should probably ask him."

"Meaning me," Justin chuckled. "Okay. And he called for me. I'm guessing he got it in his head that I wasn't coming back or some other such bullshit. It'll take more than a temper tantrum to scare me away."

"Make sure you tell him that when he wakes up," Debbie said.

"I will," Justin promised.

**BJBJBJBJBJ**

"It'll take more than a temper tantrum to scare me away," Justin said.

He was sitting in the chair beside Brian's bed and doing a crossword puzzle in one of the puzzle books he had bought the other day. He hadn't even looked up to see Brian was awake and watching him. He didn't wait for Brian to ask why he had come back. Brian was a little disgruntled that the twink thought he knew him so well.

"I didn't ask," Brian said. "I was going to ask how long it's going to be before you give in to the inevitable and suck my cock."

"Of course you were," Justin said with a smirk as he filled in another word in the puzzle. "And I'm not sucking anything until you can actually get it up. Not even a morning wood with the drugs they have you on."

Brian frowned. Justin was right. He hadn't had an erection since he woke up from the shooting. Four days was way too long to live without an orgasm. "Then tell them to change my meds. Or I'll tell them."

Justin rolled his eyes and finally looked up. "The one that is causing the trouble is already being taken out of your drug regimen when they remove your IV later today. That means you'll be coming off the good pain meds too. Back to Tylenol 3."

Brian groaned. "Can't they give me Oxycodon? Or Vicodin?"

Justin laughed. "They are trying to control your pain, not get you high."

"But it hurts," Brian whined and gave a pout. "Please? You can ask them can't you? They'll take one look at your face and give in. You can make people do that."

Justin really laughed this time. "I'll ask. Happy?"

"Delirious," Brian said. "I'm going home tomorrow. I hate hospitals."

"Hospitals don't bother me," Justin said. "I had to be brought to the ER a few times for allergy reactions, but never had to stay overnight."

"I spent plenty of time in the hospital," Brian muttered. "And it always sucked."

"Why?" Justin asked curiously.

Brian knew he wasn't asking why it had sucked. He contemplated misinterpreting the question, but thought again of his conversation with Debbie. Open up a little, she had said. Easier said than done. "My dad."

Justin blinked twice and then said, "Oh. I'm sorry."

Brian snorted. Justin was so busy trying to hide his shock that he was hiding his concern as well. "It was a long time ago. He got mean when he got drunk. A few times that meant a stay in the hospital. I'm still here and still alive and he's dead."

Justin gave Brian an uncertain smile. "Thanks. For telling me. I mean, you know all the worst shit about my family. "

Brian certainly did know more than he wanted to know about the Taylors. He knew that they had been the perfect little family: One dad, one mom, one brother, one sister. He knew that Justin's father owned his own company and was loaded. They lived in a perfect little mansion with the perfect yard for having garden parties. He also knew that the perfect family had turned out to be not so perfect when they found out Justin was gay.

In some ways, Brian thought that was as much his fault as Justin's. It had been his jeep that had been spray painted with "faggot" in big pink letters. And he had dropped Justin off at his school, giving every senior at St. James a clear view of the slur. Then again, it was bound to happen sooner or later. Justin admitted that he had several encounters with other students, so it wasn't exactly a huge secret that he liked dick. But the rumors went the rounds and Justin's parents had found out. Justin refused to deny anything. And when therapy and threats did nothing to make him change his mind about being gay, they had tossed the twink out on his ear.

Brian had been there that night. He had taken Justin home, encouraging him to patch things over with his parents, but when he heard Craig Taylor tell Justin that he had to deny who he was in order to live under their roof, he had taken Justin away from there. He was disowned and disinherited. His mother's silence, Justin had admitted tearfully later, had hurt more than any of the names his father called him. She had always been supportive of him.

Brian had taken Justin to Debbie's and the older woman had agreed that Justin needed more stability than he could get living at Brian's loft while he was still in school. So Justin had moved in and Brian had begun quietly paying for his expenses, taking over his tuition payments and forcing Debbie to take money for the twink's needs and expenses. Brian wasn't sure what had possessed him to take on responsibility for Justin, but even that early on, he knew that he couldn't lose Justin.

"What brought on that panic attack earlier?" Justin asked quietly, knowing he was pressing his luck but hoping that Brian was willing to share a little more.

Brian closed his eyes and leaned back on his pillow. When he opened his eyes, he stared at the tiles on the ceiling and counted them for the hundredth time. "I was talking to Debbie about you. And I thought there was shit I should tell you, but then I wondered if you would come back. Maybe you hated me. Maybe…something happened to you. Maybe the last thing I said to you was… Fuck!" Brian stopped and took several deep breaths to get his nerves under control. Even now, just the thought that Justin would disappear from his life made him anxious.

"I'm not going anywhere," Justin said firmly. "There isn't anything you can say to me to make me willingly leave you. And I don't plan on going unwillingly either. You are stuck with me for the long haul, Brian Kinney."

Brian turned his head to stare out the window. "Don't make promises you can't fucking keep."

Justin reached across the bed and turned Brian's face to look at him. "I'm making you this promise and I'm _**going to keep it**_. And someday, you're going to _**believe**_ it. Until then, I'll just keep hanging on no matter what."

Brian's hand came up and covered Justin's on his cheek. "Okay. Prove it to me, Sunshine."

**BJBJBJBJBJ**

"I don't need a fucking nursemaid," Brian groused as Justin helped him into the loft the next day. Emmett was behind them, his bad arm in a sling and carrying Justin's duffle bag with his good arm. Brian had been bitching since the nurse at the hospital had threatened his manhood if he didn't get in the fucking wheelchair and take the ride. He wasn't leaving the hospital on his own power and that was that. Now, pain and weakness had Brian even bitchier than he had been. Justin, however, just took it all in stride. He got Brian to the bed, got his pain meds and a glass of water. Ten minutes later, Brian was sleeping on his own bed and Emmett marveled.

"You have a stronger constitution than most men," Emmett told the blond.

"He's just in pain," Justin shrugged. "They wouldn't give him the stronger pain meds at the hospital. He's got Vicodin now. He'll be quite happy for a while. After he wakes up, that is."

Emmett smiled at that, but it was soon replaced by the sad eyes that haunted all of them lately. "I've been staying in your room at Debbie's."

"I don't mind," Justin said. "I mean, I'll be here for a while, at least until Brian is strong enough to take care of himself. Though he's already insisting that I go back to school on Thursday. You're welcome to the bed. But, if you don't mind me asking, why?"

Emmett sighed. "The apartment is too empty. And I've been helping Vic and Debbie get everything set up. It just seemed easier to stay. But the longer I stay the harder it gets to go back. The place is filled with memories and all of Michael's things. Speaking of things, I went to Ted's to…I don't know just see the place, maybe get some of the pictures of us. His mother was there and had already boxed everything up. She was giving everything to the Salvation Army. She let me go through a couple boxes and I found the pictures, but… it doesn't seem right that his life should just be boxed up and thrown away like that."

"Are you really surprised?" Justin asked. "Ted's family took his coming out about as well as mine did from the stories I've heard. Only she came when he was in that coma, not his dad or siblings. And what value does most of that stuff have to her? Most of Ted's things belonged to a life she was never part of."

"After the coma, Ted told me he really thought things would change between them, but nothing did. And it hurt him. The really sad thing is, just as I was leaving, she turned to me with a sad smile and said 'I loved him, you know. He was my baby.'" Emmett shook his head. "I know she is grieving, but I just wanted to shake her. She ignored him and now she regrets it? After it's too late to take it back?"

"Isn't that when most people realize they were wrong?" Justin said tiredly. "After it's too late to go back and fix things? What you and I have to do is learn from their mistakes and remember to cherish the ones we love."

Emmett nodded but he had tears running down his face. "I miss them both so much. They were my best friends. And I can't dump all of this on Debbie and Vic. They have their own grief to deal with. But, I… I…"

Justin pulled the taller man into his arms and let him cry.

**BJBJBJBJBJ**

Brian felt like shit. His body still ached. He was tired and weak. And he was standing in the rain watching as his best friend was about to be lowered into a grave. He had refused the umbrella that Justin tried to give him, just as he had refused to lean on the younger man as they made their way from the car to the grave. The rain on his face mingled with his tears and he was able to pretend that he wasn't crying. The fact that his Armani suit was getting ruined didn't seem to matter at all in the face of everything else.

The service at the funeral home had been nice. Vic had spoken for the family. Emmett had spoken for his friends. The priest had said a few words that Brian supposed made Debbie feel better. There weren't a lot of people there. Dr. David came, of course. Only one girl came from the Big Q; Brian figured the others heard that he was a fag and decided he deserved to die. Some people from Liberty Ave and the diner were there. Lindsay and Melanie had come, but left Gus with a sitter. Brian wished they would have brought him. Gus might have been able to distract him from the pain that was lodged in his chest.

There were even fewer people at the cemetery. Brian looked around. Justin was beside him of course, David, Lindsay and Melanie, Emmett, Vic and Debbie. And the priest. Brian wondered idly if the man had even known Mikey.

"Ashes to ashes, dust to dust," the priest intoned. Brian snorted. Yeah, they'd all be dust some day.

When it was over, one by one, they each laid a rose on the top of the casket. The others left then, but Brian stayed. The cemetery caretaker was waiting for him to go, but he wanted to see it to the end. He wanted to see them lower the casket into the ground. He wanted to see them cover it with dirt. He wanted to know that Mikey was safe and secure in death, because he hadn't been in life.

"Brian," Justin said, gaining the other man's attention. "Standing here in the rain isn't going to change anything."

"No it won't," Brian agreed, but he didn't move.

Justin looked at him and then went over to speak with the caretaker. Minutes later, the casket was lowered. Then the man removed the fake turf from the mound of dirt behind the grave and started up a small bulldozer. Justin stood beside Brian holding his hand as they watched the dirt pushed into the grave and then slowly packed down. Once that was done, Brian allowed Justin to lead him back to the car.

They stopped at the loft to change into dry clothes, and then Justin drove them both over to Debbie's for the wake. Justin had said repeatedly that if Brian was tired, he should rest. Debbie would understand, Justin told him, but Brian denied his physical needs in favor of his emotional needs for once in his life and went.

Unsurprisingly, they were the last to arrive. It looked like they weren't the only ones who had gone home to change. Lindsay had even brought Gus this time. Brian smiled for the first time that day when he saw his Sonnyboy. Without sparing a word to the baby's mother, Brian scooped up Gus and took a seat in the armchair by the window where he stayed until it was time to go home.

**BJBJBJBJBJ**

A week later, they held a memorial for Ted. This time, there was no cemetery service. And this time, Brian was not as emotionally invested and was feeling more like his old self. In fact, he rarely took his pain pills for pain anymore. Now he took them for their narcotic effects. Justin seemed to know this but didn't comment, so Brian didn't worry about it.

Then it was time for him to return to work. Justin had gone back to school after Brian was home, but Brian hadn't been able to go back to work until the doctor cleared him. It wasn't until the day after Ted's memorial that the doctor signed off. Brian, who had been going stir crazy, locked up in the loft all the time, was more than ready to go back and have something to do besides brood about Mikey and Ted. Or have nightmares about that alley. The worst was when he dreamed that Justin was there and was killed too.

Going back to Ryder was not as great as Brian had believed it would be. Less than three weeks gone and they had already begun giving away his best clients. Then there was the less than stellar welcome back he had received from Marty himself. Brian took his assistant Cynthia aside and questioned her about it.

"There's been talk," Cynthia said. "It was one thing for Marty to know you are gay, but he's got some problem with the fact that your name was plastered all over the press in connection with a shooting outside a gay nightclub."

"So it's okay for me to fuck the clients as long as they sign on the bottom line, but no one can know that I'm gay?" Brian asked. He'd lost so much already because of that mother fucking lunatic with a gun. Mikey and Ted were gone and this job just didn't seem like that big of a loss in comparison. "Fuck this shit."

"There's more," Cynthia said. "I heard from Ryder's assistant that he's afraid of a lawsuit, so he doesn't want to fire you. He wants to make it so you quit."

"So he takes away my clients and sticks me with the petty accounts that a monkey could handle," Brian muttered. "He's afraid I'll sue? He should be afraid of more than that."

"What are you going to do?" Cynthia asked.

"I'm starting my own fucking agency," Brian said as he began to pack up his personal things. The most important item was his list of contacts. "And then I'm going to take back every one of the clients I brought into this agency one by one. After that, I'm going to bury Marty Ryder and his fucking agency. You coming with me?"

Cynthia smirked. "Like there was any doubt?"

**BJBJBJBJBJ**

"You did what?" Justin asked over dinner that night.

"I quit," Brian said with a smile. "I told that homophobic asshole where to shove it and left."

"But isn't that what he wanted?" Justin asked.

Brian smirked. "That's what he thinks he wants. But when I steal all of his best clients, the ones I brought in to begin with, he's going to wish he never pissed me off."

"God, you're hot when you are on a mission," Justin sighed.

"I'm always hot," Brian corrected. "And I'm going to need your help for a few weeks."

Justin shrugged. "Okay. Doing what?"

Brian looked a bit sheepish. "Well, I've got the copy to get the clients back, and I can imagine the artwork but…"

Justin chuckled. "But you didn't think to steal part of the art team from Ryder."

"None of them like me," Brian shrugged. "I tend to be a perfectionist. Anyway, until I'm off the ground, it will be all I can do to pay Cynthia, get an office and equipment and keep the creditors off our backs. So you've been recruited to pull your weight around here. Think of it as an internship."

"I'm happy to do whatever I can to help," Justin said. "I just hope you aren't expecting more from me than I can actually deliver."

Brian stared at Justin. Was the kid kidding him? He was the best fucking artist Brian had seen in all his years of working in advertising. He could do more with a paper and pen than anyone he knew. And he had seen Justin learning and dabbling with the graphics programs on Brian's computer for months now with better results than most of the idiots at Ryder. He was more than able to do what Brian wanted him to do. But as Brian watched Justin, he realized that this wasn't a bid for compliments. Justin really had no idea how good he was. Well, Brian would just have to show him.

"You'll be fine," Brian said. "We'll get started after dinner. You did finish your homework right?"

Justin rolled his eyes. "Yes. I always finish before you get home. Now tell me about the first company you want to go after."

And so Brian did. Three hours later, Justin's sketchpad was filled with sketches and ideas for the boards that Brian and he had talked about. He was getting excited by the prospect of working so closely with Brian. Brian's concepts were so terrific and it was a challenge to come up with art and graphics to live up to that level of greatness, but Justin was determined to do just that. He could see why the artists at Ryder wouldn't have liked working with Brian, but Justin wasn't easily put off by Brian's barks of displeasure.

"I think I can get this put together this weekend," Justin said after they had finally agreed on something that would blow the client away.

"And the one with the dogs," Brian said. "As a back up. And we need both of them finished this weekend. Cynthia got me a meeting with the CEO for first thing Monday morning."

"Shit," Justin muttered. "You're trying to kill me aren't you?"

Brian smirked, "And waste a perfectly proportioned ass like yours? Not a chance. Look, I'll even do the dishes so you have time to work." Brian made a point of getting up and putting the dishes into the dishwasher.

"If you don't rinse them, the food won't come off," Justin told him, though he didn't look up from where he was working.

Brian sighed; he took the dishes out and rinsed them before putting them back into the dishwasher. Once dinner was cleaned up, Brain was ready for bed and some time with Justin, but Justin was caught up in the campaign boards.

"Put it away for tonight," Brian said as he tugged at Justin's arm. "There are other chores you need to be doing now."

Justin looked from Brian to the half finished picture he was working on and back again. Fuck it. It would still be there tomorrow. He let Brian lead him to the bedroom.

**BJBJBJBJBJ**

Justin knew Brian was having nightmares but didn't really know what to do to help his lover. Brian had changed so much since the shooting. He hadn't gone back to Babylon or Woody's. He hadn't picked up tricks. He had been attentive and almost doting towards Justin. He was everything Justin had imagined in a lover. And yet, those nightmares, the ones where Brian woke up in a cold sweat calling out for Justin and shaking for long minutes even after realizing that Justin was there beside him, made Justin worry that the Brian who was coming home to him every night was not the real Brian. That this manifestation of Brian Kinney was a temporary glitch and the real Brian would come back as soon as the subconscious fear had been reigned in.

So Justin waited for the change, but somehow it never came. He worked alongside Brian as he built Kinnetik and Brian, though he was still obviously grieving, was driven to make it succeed. Justin graduated from St. James and spent the summer working his ass off for Brian and soon Kinnetik had enough clients to support a real staff.

But despite the fact that it had been months, Brian still had nightmares almost every night. He hardly slept and he was losing weight. Justin was worried.

And then Emmett mentioned a psychiatrist that hung out at Woody's sometimes and had once been one of Brian's tricks. The two men had maintained a casual friendship and Emmett thought that Alex might just be able to help Brian. The trick was getting Brian to some place that he and Alex could "bump into each other" without Brian knowing.

Which was how Brian found himself picking up some book that Justin needed at the university bookstore.

"Brian?"

Brian turned and saw his former fuck. "Hey Alex. How's tricks?"

"Not bad," Alex said. "Haven't seen you at Woody's in months."

"Been busy," Brian said easily, but his eyes turned away. "Started a new business."

"That must be a lot of work," Alex said. "I have to say, Brian, you look like shit."

Brian scowled. "Well fuck you too. On my worst day, I'm still better looking than 90% of the gay men in this town."

Alex laughed. "That is true enough. You still look like shit."

Brian rolled his eyes. "You want to analyze me. Is that what this little tête-à-tête is all about?"

"You need analyzing?" Alex asked. "Listen, I have to meet Jim at Market Street Pub in a little while. Come keep me company. I'll buy you a drink. I'd love the chance to catch up."

Brian knew what Alex was doing, he was a very intelligent man, but he also knew that the nightmares and insomnia and anxiety had to stop. "Two drinks," Brian smirked. "And you have to admit that Justin sent you."

"Drinks first," Alex said.

Thirty minutes later, they were in a quiet booth in one of the nicer bars in downtown Pittsburgh. They hadn't talked about anything of substance while they ordered their drinks, but once they had each had a double shot of bourbon and were sipping on their beer chasers, Alex gave Brian an expectant look.

"Yeah okay," Brian said as he fiddled with the label on his bottle. "I'm sure you, like everyone else in town, know about the shooting. And I'm sure that Justin has filled in some of the details."

"He told me about your injuries and about losing your friends," Alex agreed. "He also told me you aren't eating and you aren't sleeping and when you do sleep you have nightmares."

"He left out the anxiety, but that's a pretty good picture of where we are," Brian said with a shrug. "At least the panic attacks have stopped. Those really sucked."

"Is the anxiety a general anxiety or does it have triggers?" Alex asked. "Is it constant or does it fluctuate?"

Brian sighed. "I hate all this psycho-babble shit." Alex nodded and Brian sighed again. "It's pretty much around all the time, but it gets worse when I think about what happened that night." He was silent for a moment and his eyes glistened just a little with tears he refused to shed. "Or when I think about Mikey."

Even as they sat there, Alex noticed that Brian's hands were shaking as he finished the rest of his beer and ordered another round. The fact that Brian was talking to him at all spoke volumes. It was obvious that Justin wasn't the only one worried about Brian's mental and emotional health.

"Do you have flashbacks?"

Brian gave a self-derisive huff. "All the time. A fucking car backfires and I'm a fucking mess. I see some guy on the street that looks vaguely like that dead asshole and I'm shaking. I can't get it out of my head, Mikey lying there on the ground and blood pooling around him and that asshole with the gun… Christ, I don't remember being that afraid when it happened, but now..."

Alex gave Brian a compassionate look. "It happens that way sometimes. Honestly? I think you've got PTSD. It's pretty common for people who survive a traumatic event. Basically, your brain gets stuck in the fight or flight mode. Your subconscious doesn't know that the danger is over. So we have to retrain it. It takes time Brian, so don't expect miracles. But there are some things that can help while we work on it."

"I'm not coming to your office and lying on your couch," Brian scoffed, but they both knew it was just bravado. Brian needed Alex's help and he would go where he needed to go to get it.

Alex let that go and said, "Fine, we can meet here once a week if it makes you feel better."

Brian smirked. "At least I can smoke and drink here."

Alex gave Brian a prescription for Xanax and told him to let up on the booze. "Only take it when the anxiety gets bad and right before bed. You shouldn't drink anything while on this stuff, but I know you better than that."

"Got it doc," Brian smirked as he downed his second shot.

Alex shook his head in fond exasperation. "In a completely unrelated topic, there have been some studies done that link ecstasy to curing PTSD. It lets the patients loosen up enough to really get to the heart of the problem. It requires an in-depth session that can last as long as two days. It's interesting, isn't it?"

"Very."

"If you change your mind and want to meet for longer next time," Alex said slyly, "just let me know. I can clear my Saturday. And even my Sunday if need be. Though if you decide to have a longer session, I don't think it should be at a bar."

Brian snorted. "Yeah, alright Doc. I'll play it your way. I'll give you Saturday."

"Come to the house," Alex said. "9 am?"

"Sure," Brian said. "No problem."

**BJBJBJBJBJ**

"He told you to take ecstasy?" Justin asked Brian skeptically. They were lying on the sofa, watching television together after a celebratory fuck. Justin had finished his first day of classes at PIFA and Brian had landed yet another client for Kinnetik.

"No, he _implied_ that if I _did _happen to take ecstasy before my session I _might _be able to deal with this faster than if I don't take ecstasy," Brian said as he played with Justin's hair. "If he told me to take an illegal drug that has not been approved by the FDA as a treatment for my condition, he could lose his license."

"Ah," Justin said. "At least the Xanax is working. You've had two whole nights of uninterrupted sleep. I think that's a record. So you'll be gone all day tomorrow?"

"Yes," Brian said. "He implied that it might take longer, so maybe Sunday too." Justin nodded but didn't say anything. "What?"

Justin looked up at Brian. "I just really hope this works. I mean, I hate seeing you hurting like this."

"But?"

Justin huffed and sat up, forcing Brian to sit as well. "_But_… I wonder what will happen to us when you're better. When you can go back to Babylon and Woody's and pick up tricks…"

"Justin, I can pick up tricks anywhere," Brian said. He cupped the younger man's cheek and kissed him. "I have been known to find the only gay man in a room filled with homophobes and convince him it was okay to fuck in the coat room. I once picked up a bull rider at a rodeo, for fuck's sake. If I want to fuck, I'll fuck."

"Oh."

"I haven't been picking up tricks because I want to be with you," Brian said. "Not because of this PTSD shit."

"Oh," Justin said again, this time with a sunny smile. "In that case…"

"Yes?"

"Wanna fuck me again?" Justin asked. "If I'm going to be your only outlet for sex, I think I should definitely be getting fucked more often."

Brian laughed and kissed his… lover. That was the right word.

They had settled back to watching the show a few minutes later when Justin spoke up again. "You know, I don't always mind the tricking."

Brian glanced at his lover to see where he was going to take this before he responded.

"I mean, it was fun when we'd pick up men together at Babylon or whatever," Justin said. "I wouldn't be totally opposed to doing that sort of thing."

Brian snorted. "I see. I think I have corrupted you. Where is the twink with dreams of white weddings and a house with a picket fence that I met only a year ago?"

"He's still here," Justin shrugged. "I just think we can have the commitment and still have the tricks."

"Is this for me, Justin, because I'm alright with what we have now," Brian said. "I made a choice after everything happened. I want you in my life and I'm willing to make sure you know that."

Justin beamed at Brian again. "I do know that. And I'm not doing this just for you. I _**like**_ tricking. Probably for the same reasons you do. But I think if we're going to be committed, there should be some boundaries."

Brian rolled his eyes. "Rules for cheating on your lover… this I have to hear."

"It's not cheating," Justin denied. "Okay, first rule no kissing tricks. Kissing implies an emotional attachment."

"And fucking doesn't," Brian chuckled. "Alright Sunshine, no kissing. And no one fucks you but me. You can fuck who you want, but your ass is mine."

"Agreed," Justin said. "I don't really want anyone else to fuck me either."

"Why don't we just make a rule that we can only trick together?" Brian suggested. "That would simplify things."

"But then when you have business trips or I have finals and we can't be together, then we suffer," Justin pointed out. The thought of not having sex for a day or two made both men shudder. "How about this instead, we only trick when we're together, but when we can't be together for some reason, we talk about it first and then we tell each other all the details. Oh, can you imagine it? You're off on a business trip and I'm here alone. We both pick up tricks and call while the guys are blowing us and give each other a play-by-play."

"Gives new meaning to phone sex," Brian leered. "Alright."

Justin smiled. "I love you, you know."

"Yeah," Brian said softly. "I love you too."

And he didn't once choke on the words; they felt real and they felt right. Maybe it wouldn't be so hard to let the twink know he cared after all.

**BJBJBJBJBJ**

Even with Alex's miracle cure, it took Brian a couple months of therapy and Xanax to get back to feeling like he had before the shooting. Brian chafed at the amount of time it took, but all the research that Justin did online said that it usually took years to treat PTSD and some people are never cured. Two months seemed like a short time in comparison.

Brian and Justin both knew that the worst was finally behind them when Brian was able to walk past the alley and into Babylon with out panicking and without anxiety. Yes, he felt a heart wrenching sadness as he remembered his Mikey and he remembered how he had died. But he also felt grateful for having known him, for all the good times they had shared over fifteen years of friendship. He felt relief that he was still alive with just a hint of guilt. And he felt joy when Justin took his hand and led him into the club. With Justin by his side, he was finally home.

**The End**


End file.
